Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

The difference was stark: the best of humanity and the worst of humanity on a stage in the middle of Gaza. Four young women, Israeli hostages held by terrorists for 477 days in darkness and deprivation, overcoming whatever new fears arose as they were finally out in the open, but now surrounded by hundreds of masked, armed terrorists still chanting for their destruction, smiling, supporting each other, giving a thumbs up—which seemed to me to be a glorious middle finger—to the assembled horde. 

Humanity vs. inhumanity. Love vs. hate. Hope vs. destruction. Light vs darkness. Good vs. evil.

How does “the world” give validation to these terrorists, all men, in new uniforms, faces completely covered, standing shoulder to shoulder, lacking in individuality or signs of humanity for whom intimidation and brutality—in displays and actions—are their essence and existence. The scene felt like a thin veneer covering the flames of hatred bred from birth. Not a drop of remorse for what they made these women endure. An entire society raised to hate with their putrid intentions aimed at Israelis and Jews, for now. These women survived that. What will they see when they close their eyes, trying/crying for sleep, for the rest of their lives? My heart continues to ache for them.

So much light coming from the four young women who survived hell and were about to return to the heaven that is home: family, friends, and a community that cares for their well-being. They seemed to reflect the light that hearts have been sending to them for 11,448 hours of prayers.

Watching them on that stage, alive!, in pain and joy, is to know what it means to love someone you will never know. A pure love. One soul, somehow, connecting to another. This is what it means to be part of the Jewish people. It must be an essential part of the Jewish survival instinct.

קול ישראל ערבים זה לזה

Kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh.

All Jews are responsible for one another.

(I thought I should talk about the masked men brandishing their weapons, directing the red cross and these four young women, and last week the three young women who were transferred in the middle of a mob that was barely tempered by civility, coming out of tunnels to chant for death, proclaiming that this is victory. But I decided that I don’t have to think about them or the people who think they are heroes. No. This is all they get. Perhaps the next generation (of both), or the one after it, can be saved from barbarity?)

“What three words describe how you feel now?” was the prompt in an online Havdalah service for women that I attended Saturday night.

“Relief. Anger. Hope.” My response. I wasn’t surprised to see that many of us included “anger” in our trio.

Relief for the hostages who have already been released (exchanged for terrorists, murderers, but that is another discussion).

Anger that the Jewish people are again/still suffering from antisemitism, and that there are those who see Jews as less than.

Hope, Tikvah, תִּקְוָה. The sentiment that binds us, that the Torah inspires in us, that our history demands of us.

My fourth word: community. I am not alone. You are not alone. We are. We are here for each other. We will be.